


Down Dark Alleys

by TheBeckster



Category: Jak and Daxter
Genre: A little more bloody than canon but probably on par for this fandom, Blood and Gore, Gen, I feel like Dark Jak should be a warning also, I went a little on the extreme monster-end of the DJ scale for this one, Inspired by Fanart, Mild Language, Violence, but honestly entirely in character for everyone if they were allowed to say Fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28563408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBeckster/pseuds/TheBeckster
Summary: Torn should know better than to go running towards screams and poking around in dark alleys, it never results in anything good. Tonight is certainly no different and quite possibly worse than his normal forays into Haven City's back alleys.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Down Dark Alleys

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Demfem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demfem/gifts).



> This one's inspired by [fanart by drawnale](https://drawnale.tumblr.com/post/186520338644/i-wonder-how-long-time-it-took-before-torn-learn) on tumblr!
> 
> I don't remember exactly when I first saw the piece and wrote this, but I remember being eyeballs deep in horror podcasts at the time and I think I tried by had at some spooky-ish writing. Not sure I succeeded. But, the art made its way across my dash again and I remembered this, so with a little encouragement, I cleaned it up and posted it.

([Art Link Again](https://drawnale.tumblr.com/post/186520338644/i-wonder-how-long-time-it-took-before-torn-learn), in case the one in the notes doesn't work)

**Down Dark Alleys**

It was the scream that caught Torn’s attention. Unfortunately at this time of the night and in this sector of the city, a woman screaming wasn’t exactly uncommon. She couldn’t be more than a couple blocks away. Torn’s feet turned automatically towards the noise. He hadn’t taken more than a couple steps when more screams joined the first woman – men and women shouting in terror, in the beginnings of panic.

Torn picked up the pace.

People sprinted past him, their eyes wild with fear, all but ignoring the madman crazy enough to run towards the chaos.

“Shit man, you’re going the wrong way!” one teen yelled after barreling into Torn.

The ex-guardsman merely growled at the kid and aided him on his way with a shove. The crowd thinned. Torn’s hand lay on the grip of his pistol in its holster – going in gun’s blazing was for dumbass kids and their obnoxious pet rats.

He paused before rounding the last corner, straining to listen. There was nobody else left on the streets. A muted growl and snarl reached Torn’s ears. He glanced around the corner, nothing. The sound seemed to be coming from a dark alley. Torn crept closer.

The streetlights were in just as ill repair as the rest of the slums and what ones that were still working flickered feebly against the night. The sound grew louder; the snarls were punctuated with a wet tearing noise and then a couple seconds of silence before it began again.

Torn peeked down the alley.

Down at the end, just barely outside the pool of light created by a flickering streetlight, something was hunched over and pawing through a pile of garbage on the ground. Its back was turned and it seemed thoroughly engrossed in its task. Methodically, it tore up a long strip of something soft and dripping wet and threw it aside.

Every nerve in Torn’s body was on end and his every instinct was to turn tail and run just like the civilians. Instead he walked closer, his gun free from its holster and ready. Silently, mindful of his feet and the litter all over the alley, he crept closer. He just had to see what that thing was and what it was tearing apart.

Maybe it was just a deformed lurker that had escaped the labor camps and was starving and feeding on garbage.

He was close enough now to get some details of the thing.

Sure as hell wasn’t a lurker.

It looked… human… ish. The shape of the body and the long ears were certainly human. But the eco-poisoned pallor of its skin, the shocking white hair, and the fucking _horns_ growing from the top of its head certainly weren’t. Not to mention the talons on its fingers and the violet sparks of dark eco that seemed to come _from_ its body.

It wasn’t a lurker. It wasn’t a metalhead – too organic. Was it some horrific crossbreed of man and metalhead? An escaped experiment of the Baron’s? Precursors knew what the extent of sick experiments the Baron’s pet scientists got up to in the Fortress.

Jak had witnessed his fair share during his stint in prison, but the kid hardly talked about it. Even Daxter kept his mouth shut on the subject. And in the couple weeks Torn had known the two, Daxter didn’t shut his mouth about _anything_. So whatever Jak knew must have been bad.

Torn was close enough to see what the creature was tearing into. It wasn’t a pile of garbage. It was a human body, bloody and mutilated, and being ripped to shreds with methodical care. The creature wasn’t _eating_ the body – that maybe would have been better than whatever sadistic pleasure it was getting from stripping the skin and muscle off.

It was a fresh kill. Torn could smell the hot, metallic scent of spilled blood. Some still dripped slowly from slowly oozing wounds – a fresh, wide gash across the throat was clearly the killing blow.

He could hear now the low growl of the creature, a constant almost _purr_ at every strip of flesh separated from the body.

Torn raised his gun, aiming for the monster before it noticed he was sneaking up. At this distance, he couldn’t miss. At the same moment there was a noise behind him, someone else had kicked an empty can. It rolled and skittered away noisily. The monster jerked around, its fangs bared at Torn, its bloody talons gleaming in the low light, its empty black eyes narrowed into a ferocious glare.

Torn fired at the bigger, more immediate threat, but he hadn’t gotten a chance to take proper aim, the shot went wide and missed. He fired again, but the monster was already leaping off the corpse, lunging towards Torn with an enraged howl. He missed again as the monster dodged the shot.

Torn didn’t get a chance for a third shot as the monster was upon him, it grabbed him with its clawed hands and threw him against the alley wall.

Torn hit hard enough to see stars, have the wind knocked out of him, and feel something fracture in his ribs. Even as he hit the ground, before his head stopped spinning and his vision cleared, he was already pushing himself to his feet, automatically lifting a gun to get a shot in at the creature before it came at him or the kill.

“Wait, stop!”

Torn growled in the back of his throat as he kept pushing himself up. If the rat was here, that meant Jak wasn’t too far behind. Good, he could use some back-up.

Torn made it to one knee and already had his pistol half up to the dark figure of the monster before he registered what was happening.

Daxter was standing right in front of the barrel of his gun, and his little hands were pushing it away from its aim. “ _Precursors_ , calm your tits, Tattooed Wonder!”

“The hell are you doing, rat?” Torn snarled, trying to jerk his gun up and out of Daxter’s reach, but the little ottsel had more strength than he looked as he was able to keep Torn’s hand dragged down to the ground. “That monster—“

“Is Jak!”

Torn fell dead still. He looked from Daxter, who was grimacing and covering his mouth, his eyes wishing he could take back the damning words. Then he looked up to the monster, who hadn’t moved any closer since Daxter had shown up.

The thing growled at Torn, fresh blood was spattered across the familiar blue shirt that the kid usually wore. His eyes were soulless obsidian instead of blue, and his hair wasn’t the easily recognizable green and yellow, but Torn had seen enough of Jak in the last couple weeks to recognize the Underground's newest recruit.

“What the fuck?”

Torn’s pistol clattered to the ground. Daxter took a couple tentative steps back. His ears were pulled low against his head and he fidgeted with his hands.

“Baron Praxis did something to him… pumped him full of dark eco. He was trying to make super soldiers but, Jak’s the only one who survived, and… well… sometimes this happens.”

“What is _this_?” Torn gestured to the monster who had relaxed somewhat once the gun was dropped and retreated back out of the pool of the streetlight.

“We call him Dark Jak.” Daxter swallowed. “He usually only comes out when Jak’s pissed off or threatened. Control is… iffy.” Daxter turned to look over his shoulder where the creature glowered from the shadows. “I don’t think he’ll hurt you anymore.”

“That’s not exactly comforting,” Torn growled, keeping a wary eye on the monster. He picked up his gun, but put it back in the holster. Torn slowly got back to his feet, his arm wrapped automatically around his chest in pained reflex. He wondered, in the back of his mind, which of his ribs he’d broken. He looked behind him and realized there were several new cracks in the bricks that he was certain hadn’t been there before.

He looked back at the creature – at Jak. There was a lot of power locked up in that stocky body. Despite himself, Torn was already evaluating the new information. Power like that could be dangerous, but it could also be useful. That is – his eyes flicked to the dead body – if the usefulness could outweigh the danger.

“And what happened there?” Torn jerked his head to the corpse.

Daxter glanced at the body before looking away, looking very unnerved and slightly nauseous. “I didn’t catch much before our buddy DJ showed up, and he's not exactly a good conversationalist. I think he used to be a prison guard. Jak recognized him. I went to go keep an eye out for any approaching trouble and—“

“Has he killed other people?”

“Some KG, but he’s never…” If it was possible for the rat to look green beneath his fur, he certainly accomplished it, throwing hesitant, sidelong glances to the body in the shadows. “He’s never mutilated anyone before.”

Torn figured as much. If there was a monster running around the city, killing and tearing apart civilians, he would have heard of it by now. Gossip was the only bright spot to many peoples’ days.

“He better learn to control it,” Torn said stiffly. “I don’t want to hear any news of a repeat of tonight. Got it.”

Daxter’s ears perked up. “No worries! We’ll get right on it as soon as Jak snaps out of it. DJ’ll be better trained than any crocadog you’ve ever seen.”

Torn didn’t miss the heavy sarcasm in the ottsel’s words.

“I’m serious, Daxter,” Torn snapped, staring directly into the empty black eyes of the beast. “If I hear even a rumor of him hurting civilians, I’ll put him down myself.”

Dark Jak growled in his throat and his brow furrowed. Torn knew that he’d been heard and understood. He turned sharply on his heel and stalked off back down the alley and to the street. Daxter’s quiet “Got it” followed after him.

The streets were still empty and abandoned. Distantly, Torn could hear the call of a squad of KG and the roar of a hellcat approaching. Behind him, he heard something scrabbling up and over the wall at the end of the alley. The constant, high pitched whine of Daxter’s voice faded. Jak and Daxter had made themselves scarce, time for Torn to do the same.


End file.
